


From Olympus With Love

by between_the_lines888



Series: Myra's Story [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Gen, Spies & Secret Agents, those pesky gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:23:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/between_the_lines888/pseuds/between_the_lines888
Summary: Myra Fisher didn't exactly ask to be a spy. But there she was on board the Princess Andromeda trying her best to navigate through a world of monsters, secrets, and perhaps a bit of romance. She is not sure if she will make it out alive.Set during Sea of Monsters





	1. Up In Smoke

“Myra, why did you set that yard on fire?” Special Agent Harmon was not angry. Instead he wore his disappointment openly. “I really thought you weren’t going to get yourself into more trouble.”

Myra couldn’t look up from the coffee stain on the table. It was hard to miss against the stainless steel table with the florescent light beating down on it. It was not an interesting stain; it was just the ring left behind by a mug. But she could not lift her eyes to look at Harmon.

“I swear, Harmon, I didn’t do it,” was all she could muster. She crossed her arms tighter and dug her nails into her palms.

“I really want to believe that you didn't do it. You're a really good kid but you have been known to do some stupid stuff,” he replied. She began to chew on her lip, tearing at the chapped skin with her teeth. Harmon hated to see her like this and let out a sigh before asking, “okay, Myra, what happened?”

She raised her eyes to meet his and squared her shoulders. “I know this is going to sound crazy but it is the truth. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“Your mother is not dead,” Harmon reminded her firmly.

“That doesn’t mean I'm lying. Harmony and I were walking back from the commissary with groceries. We were at the corner of Maple and Decatur when this girl walks up to us and starts asking us for directions and stuff. She seemed normal but Harmony started to get a little cagey and was kind of rude to the girl, which is so unlike Harmony. Then it got really weird. Everything got kind of blurry for a few seconds and the girl looked straight up demonic. She had red eyes and flaming hair and a weird shiny leg. Next thing I know she lunges at me and we fall onto the grass. I was struggling to get her off of me but she was really strong but I managed to push her off of me and when I looked over there was just a smouldering patch of grass. So I didn't set that yard on fire, that weird demon girl did.”

Harmon really did want to believe her. For the most part she had hear head on straight. However, she had a nasty habit of getting into trouble. She was often caught in the middle of fights or found at ground zero of disaster. Although she always maintained that she was innocent, Myra seemed to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There was a particularly bad incident where all of the glass in the drug store suddenly shattered. When the dust settled, Myra was found covered in shards of glass plastered to her skin and clothes with various lotions and soaps in the middle of the store. She kept muttering about Starbucks women and a blinding light. It was later discovered that she had a pretty serious concussion and her delusional talk of women with snakes for legs was dismissed as a side effect of the traumatic injury.

Following this incident one of Harmon’s agents suggested that she come and do some of the work around the office that no one else wanted to do. It turned out that it was just the thing she needed to keep herself out of trouble. As an added benefit she finally managed to organize the filing system. She was now a valuable part of the team, which made it harder to see her seated across the interrogation table.

Harmon let out a deep sigh. The internal debate pulled at him: should he let Myra go and deal with the homeowner’s association or should he take disciplinary action.

“I guess we can just chalk this up to being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Harmon conceded, writing a few notes in the incident report. “I did have to call your father though.”

All the air left Myra and she sat across the table like a deflated party balloon. Harmon let Commander Fisher into the interrogation room. Myra slowly raised her eyes to look at her father. Much to her surprise he didn't look angry or disappointed, but had a forlorn look etched across his face. Harmon turned to leave the room, “Sorry to call you down here about this, Commander Fisher. As I'm sure you heard, Myra will not implicated in any way for what happened. Have a good day,”

* * *

 

Myra thought that the car ride home was painfully silent. It did not prepare her for the conversation she was about to have with her parents. They all sat in the kitchen around the table. Myra’s parents were sitting unusually close together and her father was gripping her mom’s hand. Myra sat opposite of them nervously tapping the table with her fingers. No one volunteered to speak first and break the silence that filled the room.

“Myra, there is something we need to tell you,” her father said grimly, placing a folded piece of paper on the table.

She had never heard his use this tone of voice before. After so many years of being a navy brat there are certain tones that are easily recognized: ‘I’m being deployed’, ‘were moving again’, ‘a friend has been killed in action’. This was none of these and Myra felt like she was in uncharted territories. She inhaled deeply preparing herself for a new brand of bad news.

“The truth is, we have not exactly been truthful about our family life,” her mom said gently.

“Myra,” her father stated in his stiff, naval commander voice “Emma is not your mother.”

This admission came out of nowhere and nearly knocked the air out of Myra. It certainly was not what she was expecting. Before she could recompose a thought her father began to explain.

“You see, Emma and I have known each other for a very long time. Like we told you we began to date in college, but after graduation we agreed to go our separate ways while I joined the Navy and Emma went to law school. As I was about to finish basic training I met your birth mother. We had a casual relationship but it was never very serious. Just as I became officially enlisted, you showed up on my doorstep with this note. I never read it because it’s addressed to you.” He said pushing the folded paper closer to her. Myra reached for the paper but her hands were shaking so badly. She quickly withdrew her hand and gripped it tightly in her lap.

“Myra, sweetie, I want you to know that this does not change anything. I will always love you and, to me, you will always be my daughter,” Emma gently explained with a soft smile. “Not figuratively either. I legally became your mother when I adopted you. If anyone else wants you to be their daughter they will have to go through me.”

Emma always had a knack for making Myra feel better. Maybe it was her calm smile or her fierce sense of humour, but often her presence felt like a warm hug. It was a very strange trait for a high-powered JAG

lawyer to have. Emma also tended to be very supportive, even when her father was not. Emma had helped Myra dye her hair a multitude of colours and let her band use their garage to practice. These thoughts flooded into Myra’s head but everything was swirling so fast that they couldn’t make it from her brain to her mouth.

“We will give you a few minutes to yourself to process all of this,” her father said rising from the table and wrapping Emma in a hug as he led her from the room. From the living room she could hear Emma quietly crying as her father comforted her in gentle tones. Myra reached for the letter on the table unsure if she really wanted to know what was written inside.

Tentatively she picked up the paper from the table. The eighteen-year-old glue came apart easily and the creases in the lined paper resisted being pried open. The handwriting was sharp and clear, written in dark blue ink. Myra tried to read through the letter without hyperventilating. She understood the words individually but they didn’t make sense together. She managed to gather something about a camp on the Long Island Sound.


	2. Dream a Little Dream of Me

The woman on the loud speaker spoke in pleasant Japanese as Myra stood in front of the security line at the Nagasaki Airport. The long drive from Sasebo to Nagasaki had only been made longer by the tension between Myra and her parents that had hung in the air since she had read the letter from her mother. She could tell that her parents were worried she was going to be angry and avoided her to not cause any more irritation. However Myra was not really angry. Sure there was a little resentment that her parents had chosen to keep the truth from her for eighteen years, but she mostly felt numb. This was definitely a trait stemming from growing up with active duty parents and living in a community of military families. Instead of facing her emotions, Myra had quickly and quietly packed her few clothes into an old duffle bag that had been her dad’s during basic training. Harmony had tired pushed her on the issue a couple of times as she helped Myra pack, but Myra had always snapped at her to lay off. Finally Harmony conceded and watched her friend solemnly while she matched socks.

After Harmony left, Myra started to feel guilty for snapping at her friend and resolved to apologize before she left. The next day Myra walked to Harmony’s house down the street. After ringing the doorbell several times Harmony opened the door and invited Myra in. Myra was relieved to see that Harmony was not at all angry with her for the way Myra had treated her the day before.

Standing next to Harmony had always made Myra a little bit insecure about her looks. Harmony was stunning. Her skin was slightly tan with a spattering of freckles, which complemented her warm brown hair she usually wore down and her captivating green eyes. She carried herself with such a regal grace, which was only heightened by Myra’s casual and scruffy demeanour.

“You must have read my mind,” Harmony said as Myra followed her to her room. “I was just about to come over. I have something for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Myra commented, plopping down on the corner of the bed. Although saying things like that never deterred Harmony who was always doing thoughtful things for Myra and others, such as volunteering at the Good Will on base.

“Well, I saw this in the thrift shop the other day and it immediately made me think of you,” Harmony said sitting next to her and shoving something cold and metal into Myra’s hands.

It was a silver bracelet reminiscent of the ID bracelets from the 70s, with a silver plate connected to a thick chain. However, instead of a name engraved onto the plate there was a snake draped across an olive branch. Myra quickly put it on and admired the craftsmanship. Although Harmony had found it in a thrift shop there weren’t any sings of tarnishing.

“Thanks so much, Harmony,” Myra said turning to giver her a hug. “I will always wear it to remind me of our times together.”

“By some coincidence I found two of them in a pile of jewellery someone had donated. Whoever gave us all the jewellery must have been a craftsperson because it was all really nice. They are kind of a really classy version of friendship bracelets,” Harmony commented as she thrust her arm out for Myra to see her matching snake bracelet.

“I can’t believe I'm leaving,” Myra admitted falling back on the bed with a huff.

“I'm sure it will be a fun adventure,” Harmony smiled.

“It’s crazy that we won’t be able to see each other everyday anymore. Who am I going to hang out with?” She didn't reply but gave Myra a knowing smile.

Harmony and Myra had been friends since the day that Myra moved to Sasebo, three years ago. They became friends almost instantly, sharing many classes and after school activities. Soon they were spending most of their time together, which meant that Harmony spent most of her time trying to keep Myra out of trouble. If she were being honest, Myra would have admitted that she had almost cried a few times when she thought of not being able to spend time with Harmony anymore. But Myra was not good at being honest.

They spent the afternoon reminiscing about their good times: crashing parties, having crushes on the boys at school, pulling stupid pranks. It had been a good three years. Looking at the clock, Myra was surprised that it was almost seven.

“I should probably get home,” she admitted.

“Okay Myra, be sure to keep in touch. I want to hear all about New York,” Harmony instructed sternly as she walked Myra to the door. With a crushing hug Myra reluctantly left Harmony’s house, slowing walking towards her—or more appropriately her parent’s—house.

Then it was off to New York.

Myra’s parents tried to put forward a sunny disposition but it was quite obvious that were sad to be sending off their baby bird so soon. All Myra could muster was a quick “I love you” and a hug before leaving her parents behind. Although she knew they were watching until they were absolutely certain that she had made it past security, Myra only ventured a glace or two back. Instead she focused ahead to the long trip.

It was truly going to be a long day. From Nagasaki she took a plane to Tokyo, before getting on a thirteen-hour flight almost half way around the world. Myra groaned inwardly. It was difficult enough to sit through a full day of school and work without getting restless. It was going to be a bitch to try to sit still in a confined space for half a day. Just thinking about it made Myra started to shuffle her feet uncontrollably and she started to tap her hands against her thighs. She started to act so restless one of the security agents started to eye her suspiciously so she clasped her hands in front of her and tried her hardest to stand still. This proved very difficult but she made it through security and to her gate without incident.

* * *

 

Myra immediately grew suspicious when her name was called at the gate at the Tokyo-Narita airport. She knew that her travel plans and documents were in order, so why was she being called? “I sure as hell hope they’re not bumping me to another flight” she though as she approached the desk.

Standing behind the desk were a man and a woman. The man was attractive but not necessarily in a memorable way. With dark wavy hair and warm brown eyes, it was almost like someone from a dream. Like faces of countless people you pass on the street had combined to create someone who could be a handsome man in a commercial. Standing next to him a woman looked vaguely familiar. The woman must have been in her late twenties, with a confident but kind smile and bright green eyes. Myra kept glancing over at her every few steps, nagged by the tugging at the back of her mind that she knew her. She tried to brush it aside and focus on what happened would happen when she had waded through all this travel bullshit.

“Miss Fisher?” the man asked when she approached the desk. Myra nodded in response. “This flight is overbooked so you are being upgraded to first class.”

Myra stared back at them with a stupidly incredulous look on her face. For some reason this all seemed very suspicious. But then again a free upgrade to first class was not something to complain about. Myra vaguely remembered flying in Business Class once when her father was flown to Washington to receive commendation. It would be a serious upgrade from sitting in the very last row of a gigantic airplane for many, many hours like she had when she first flew to Japan. “Well, if this was some kind of elaborate prank, it would be better to have egg on my face in First Class than being kicked by some kid for thirteen hours,” she thought to herself. Her standing and staring must have slightly unnerved the flight attendants behind the desk. They took her silence as an odd approval and officiated the transaction on the computer.

“Boarding will begin as soon as the plane is finished being prepared. Here is your new boarding card,” the woman announced, placing a freshly printed document on the desk.

“Thanks,” Myra mumbled taking the boarding pass and sticking it in her passport. The pair smiled back at her as she politely nodded and walked back to her seat. It was probably only about ten or fifteen minutes later when the first boarding group was called. Myra quickly gathered up her few belongings she had not put in her checked luggage and made her way to the boarding area. The woman behind the scanner gave her a smile as she checked her ticket.

It didn't take long to find her seat, as there was only a handful in the First Class cabin. As soon as she had managed to get her bags into the overhead space, she settled into the very spacious seat and immediately started to press all the buttons and pull every lever to see what they all did. She discovered one button reclined the seat so far that it was more of a bed than a seat. The flight attendant gazed down at her with a tray in his hands. It was the same man who was behind the desk. It seemed a little odd for a flight attendant to work at a desk on the same flight they were to be attending, but she didn't think of it too much. She sat up and tried to act a little more dignified as he askes her if she would care for a glass of champagne. She thanked him and took a glass as she settled into the fully upright seat.

The first hour of the flight had gone smoothly enough. Myra frequently saw both the man and the woman from the desk at the airport as they walked through the cabin to ask if she needed anything, although there was little she needed to ask for. If they saw that her glass was almost empty, they would swiftly return to fill it and it seemed that no request was absurd. They had even given all the passengers a set of cotton pyjamas, which she eagerly changed into; glad to be out of the tight jeans she had stupidly chosen to wear. She read some of her book and when she felt her eyes starting to feel crossed, she scrolled through the seemingly endless choices of movies and television shows. It seemed that only moments after she had chosen something to watch an elegant meal was being placed in front of her. Eating the pasta in rich sauce and the perfectly cooked steak, it was hard to see how anyone could joke about airplane food. As soon as she had finished her meal, the tray was whisked away. Moments later the man appeared at her side with another tray of champagne, from which Myra gladly took another glass.

She tried not to gulp down the wine like she had done when she first sat down, as it had gone straight to her head. However, her attempt was not successful and the glass was drained within a few minutes. This glass did not make Myra feel the fizzy excitement that champagne usually tingles through the body, but rather everything started to feel heavy. She struggled to get up and walk to the bathroom where she splashed some cold water on her face in order to shake the leaden feeling. That didn't work and she staggered back to her seat, barely making it there before collapsing onto it. She could barely keep her eyes open. After a moment of struggling against the haze she buckled her seatbelt, lay the seat down, and slipped under into a deep sleep.

* * *

 

When Myra woke up it was not in an airplane, or in New York, or seemingly in this millennia. She was standing in the middle of a packed earth road. Stone buildings lined the sides of the street with stalls standing before them shaded with worn canvas. Trees hung over the road shading the people who walked between the stalls inspecting the merchandise. The street was swarming with people buying flowers and burning incense in celebration. In the distance drums, flues, tambourines, and a joyous chanting rang out echoing off the surrounding buildings. The procession could barely be seen approaching from the far end of the street. The sights and the sounds were dizzying and overwhelming. And Myra had absolutely no idea where she was.

“Excuse me?” she asked turning to a vendor who was displaying some finely decorated pottery. “Where am I?”

He lifted his eyes from the wax tablet where he was calculating his inventory and regarded Myra with a curious look. “My dear, the feasting has scarcely started and yet it would seem that your kylix has overflowed.” Myra watched his mouth closely as he spoke. The movements were foreign and if she tuned out his words it sounded as if he wasn’t speaking English. Still she understood him perfectly.

“You are in the agora,” he informed her kindly but Myra just stared at him dumbfounded. “Today is the wedding feast of our great leader Cadmus, the slayer of the terrible water dragon, and founder of this beautiful and power city of Thebes. The wedding procession should be coming through here any moment now.”

“Thebes?” she whispered unable to truly comprehend the situation. It was then that she noticed the great temple and expansive network of buildings towering over the agora. It nearly glittered in the midday sun, illuminating the painted sculptures on the temple’s pediment. Mimosa and olive trees shaded the pathways that wound between the ornately decorated buildings.

Before she could ask any more questions the wedding procession burst onto the road. Woman carrying large wicker baskets tossed flowers onto the road, young men carried bronze bowls smoking with fragrant incense, and musicians serenaded the onlookers. After an army of revellers passed a gilded chariot pulled by two black horses. The chariot carried a man and a woman who waved gracefully at the spectators. The man was tall and wide stemming from the years he had spent in combat. With high cheekbones and an angular face he was the ideal form of a hero. He wore a gleaming diadem on a tangle of brown curls and a short chiton dyed purple and embroidered with gold thread, both clearly indicated him as the ruler of the city. Standing next to his was his bride. The elaborately embroidered, indigo himation was pulled over her head to veil her face. Once the chariot went past, the revellers stepped onto the road to join the celebration.

The man from the stand had cleared the pottery from the surface of his stall and exited onto the street with a woman on his arm. They each held ceramic boxes with intricate decorations around the sides and the lid. The pair approached Myra and invited her to join them. She accompanied the pottery dealer, his wife, and countless others as they journeyed up the hill towards the acropolis.

As the crowd gathered on the hill around the steps of the temple, the couple had dismounted the chariot and was standing, hand-in-hand, at the top of the steps. Standing behind the couple was a small handful of people wearing elaborately decorated clothing and jewellery watching with an air of cool detachment. A man stepped from the small crowd standing behind the couple to address the masses. He was tall and imposing with a very impressive black beard. From where she stood, Myra could barely make out what was being said, but she listened intently anyway. She had become so wrapped up in the ceremony that she didn't notice that someone had approached and was standing to the right of her.

“It’s a beautiful day for a wedding,” he announced softly. Myra whipped her head around to look at him and felt her stomach clench up when she saw who had spoken to her. It was the flight attendant, although he wasn’t wearing a blazer and a tie but a linen chiton and leather sandals. Realization dawned on her that she must be in some kind of insane dream, despite the fact that it was the most realistic dream she had ever had. She tried to find clarification but stood staring at the man, dumbfounded. “I missed Cadmus and Harmonia’s wedding the first time around, so it is a treat to witness it for myself, even if it’s only through your dream.”

Myra wasn’t sure how to respond, so she stood there staring at the man hoping he would have the answers. He gazed upon the couple standing on the steps of the temple for a few moments before turning back to Myra. “My apologies, this must be very confusing for you,” he spoke quietly taking Myra by the elbow and began to push towards the front of the crowd. The people obstructing the path simply moved out of the way without any instruction to do so. “We are in attendance of the wedding of Cadmus, of Thebes, and Harmonia, the fair goddess of harmony. I am your gracious host, Morpheus, god of dreams.”

As they arrived at the base of the steps, the groom lifted the himation off of his bride’s head revealing the other flight attendant from the airplane. At this point the shock factor started to wear off and Myra felt as if she had seen this coming. The woman’s eyes swept over the crowd and laded on Myra, to whom she cast a warm smile. The groom, Cadmus, then announced that the wedding feasts had officially commenced. As the revellers pushed their way towards the shaded area where tables had been arranged to accommodate the citizens of Thebes, Morpheus and Myra stood at the temple steps and watched as those congregated behind the couple came forward to present the bride and groom with gifts.

“Unfortunately that necklace would prove to be quite a burden for the newlyweds. It was said that Hephaestus made that cursed necklace because he was angry that Harmonia was the product of his wife’s affair. The curse tormented their children and eventually many other Theban aristocrats. It became such a plague that Cadmus and Harmonia fled, established the kingdom of Illyria, and were later transformed into serpents and taken to Olympus,” Morpheus explained as they watched the genial exchange of the young couple interacting with the gods. “Fun fact, Dionysus is their grandson.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Myra asked softly, watching as the bride thanked the man who had presented her with the necklace. She watched as Harmonia lifted it to her neck and eagerly clasped it, as it glittered gold in the sun. It made her feel profoundly sad. She didn't know the bride or groom but it was angering that they were cursed to unhappiness on their wedding day.

“It’s just some background. It is always beneficial for demigods to know the ‘mythology,’” he added cryptically with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Demigods?”

“Yes, my dear, the children of mortals and gods,” Harmonia said as she descended the steps to join Myra and Morpheus. As the goddess stood in front of them the scene rapidly shifted, and they were standing on a grassy hill overlooking a lush valley that stretched towards the sea. Buildings dotted the landscape, but Myra didn’t give them much attention as she was captivated by the pair standing in front of her. “Just as you are, given that your mother was a goddess.”

“Okay, I must have eaten something really weird because this dream is starting to feel like a really bad trip,” Myra exasperated before she tried to blink herself awake. It was fruitless as every time she opened her eyes she still stood on the hill.

“This should not be taken lightly,” Morpheus snapped at her.

“Morpheus is correct, Myra. There are many trials and tribulations that demigods in your position must face. Unfortunately it is not common for your kind to live a long life. However being prepared is the key to survival,” Harmonia calmly explained patting Myra’s shoulder reassuringly.

“I’m afraid that is all we have time for,” Morpheus announced.

“I know you have many questions, and I would like to answer all of them. But you must return to your world,” Harmonia reassured. “However, we will see each other again sooner than you think.”

There was suddenly a dark shadow beginning to envelope everything. It swallowed the valley, the sky, and even the two gods that stood before her. Then everything went black. It should have been a terrifying experience, but it felt like the first peaceful moments of sleep. Then she opened her eyes and she was back on the airplane. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Myra sat up and yanked the window open. Outside Manhattan lit up the sky and its reflection danced in the river. It felt almost impossible to have slept that long. Glancing back towards the galley she saw the flight attendants from her dream watching her carefully. She couldn’t make up her mind if the dream had been real or the strange side effect of the stress of leaving home.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York,” the captain announced, pulling Myra from her thoughts. “The local time is 11:45 pm. We should be landing in about fifteen minutes, so please sit back and enjoy the view. I know you have a lot of choices when you fly, so thank you for choosing us. Once again, welcome to New York.”


	3. Off to Camp We Go

The sliding doors opened at regular intervals, letting the cold air come rushing in. Myra wished she had brought a warmer jacket. It had been temperate in Sasebo and she made a stupid assumption that it wouldn’t be too much colder in New York. Yet it was an unusually cold November and the wind cut straight through her jacket. Myra doubted that moving further away from the door would help any since the central heating seemed to be turned off, so she stayed seated on the cold, metal bench crossing her arms a little tighter around herself.

  
Myra had never been to New York before and she wasn’t exactly sure how to get to the camp in Long Island that the letter had mentioned. Her parents had given her some money, but probably not enough to take a cab all the way there. There were other ways to get out of the city, but it was the middle of the night and wasn’t sure that any of the public transportation was running. She resolved to spend the night at the airport, sleeping on the hard metal benches, if she needed to and would figure out how to get there in the morning.

  
Myra adjusted the duffle bag behind her and leaned back, drawing her knees up and putting her feet on the bench. Closing her eyes, she tried to drown out the noise of the other travellers greeting their loved ones or the janitors rolling their carts across the baggage area. But the more she tried to tune out the noise the louder it got. Instead she focused on the sound of her own breath. It was relaxing to count the steady rhythm of inhaling and exhaling. Myra had gotten as confortable and relaxed as she could in her position, but it would seem that sleep would allude her. After all she had slept really well on the plane.

  
As the doors slid open once again, there was a new and familiar sound added to the din and someone entered the airport baggage area. One by one there was a dull clank of metal crutches with rubber stoppers on the end echoed against the walls, followed by the sound of thick-soled shoes hitting the polished granite floor. Myra made no indication that she heard it, keeping her eyes closed and her head facing forward. Even as the person approached her, Myra nearly refused to acknowledge that anyone was around her at all. Coming from another direction two other people were also making their way towards the bench where she lay trying to will herself to sleep.

  
Even as the person stood in front of her, she didn't even open her eyes. The guy with the crutches cleared his throat to try to get her attention. It didn't exactly work and she shut her eyes tighter. He just sighed and reached out with a crutch and jabbed Myra decisively in the thigh. Reluctantly she turned her head towards them and snuck a peek through her eyelashes. He heart jumped into her throat and she quickly repositioned herself to a sitting position.

  
“Hey Myra. It’s been a while,” the guy said as she tried to process what she was seeing. He was not very tall and his face looked perpetually stoned, with his watery blue eyes half hiding under his heavy eyelids and a lazy smile smeared across his face. A tangle of blond knots was stashed under a backwards, green snapback. Despite the freezing weather he wore a Hawaiian print shirt and very baggy jeans that pooled at his feet. He was also probably the only person on the planet who still wore a puka shell necklace.

  
“Travis?” she asked astonished. Myra had tried to think of something clever to say in the wake of seeing an old friend but that was all she could manage. She stood up and gave him a hug. Myra had met Travis at school what felt like many years ago. At the tender age of seven, she wandered the halls at her new elementary school trying to find her new classroom; Travis had offered to show her around. After that they reluctantly became friends. Travis was often more laid back and didn't feel the need to seek out trouble the way Myra did. Although when she did do something that would get them caught, Travis was just as fast as she was even with his crutches. He had once told her that he suffered from a congenital musculature disorder that required the crutches, although she never gave her a straight answer about his condition.

  
“Hello, Travis. It’s nice to see you again,” spoke a woman’s voice coming from the left. They both glanced over to watch as two people approached them. Just as she thought she could never be surprised again, Myra felt her heart stop for a second and it felt like the bottom of her stomach fell to the floor because walking towards her, in New York’s FKJ airport (six thousand miles from Japan), was Harmony.

  
Myra gave up even just trying to understand what was happening. She sat back down on the bench and dropped her head into her hands. She almost didn't want to know why there were two of her friends who were supposed to be far away standing in front of her in New York. Harmony sat down next to Myra and patted her gentry on the back. Peeking out of the corner of her eye for a brief second the person sitting next to her was not Harmony but the flight attendant from the flight and her dream. However when she looked back she could only see Harmony.

  
At that moment Myra had enough and shot up grabbing her duffle bag and swinging it over her shoulder. The momentum caused by throwing her luggage made her sway precariously on her feet for a second. That did not stop her from pushing through the small crowd of people, including the other flight attendant she only just saw as she stormed away. Her eyes darted from each of the signs hanging form the celling trying to find someone that could help her. The people were not that quick to be shaken off as they trailed closely behind.

  
“Listen, I don’t know what kind of stupid prank this is, but it’s not really that funny,” she spat as she spun around.

  
“Myra,” Travis started in a calming tone raisings his hands to try to placate her.

  
“What kind of mind game is this?” she accused them as she tried to back away. The person who looked almost exactly like Harmony reached out and grabbed Myra’s wrist and the affect was immediate. A hushed calm fell over her and it felt as if the adrenaline that had made her feel jittery had suddenly left her system.

  
“You are safe, Myra. I promise we are just here to help you, not kidnap you. We are here to help you get to Camp, that is all,” she spoke in a calming voice that was reminiscent of a gentle breeze dancing through a wind chime. Myra nodded suddenly placated by the soothing words.

  
“We should probably get out of here,” said the other flight attendant as he picked up Myra’s duffle bag. They followed his line of sight and fell upon a ragged woman pushing a cleaning trolley on the opposite side of the room. She was watching them closely and it made Myra feel very uncomfortable.

  
“The van is parked in the first row of the parking garage,” Travis said in a near whisper and handing the keys to the man. Harmony steered Myra towards the door forcefully and kept glancing back every few steps. Myra knew that she did not want to confront whatever was behind her so she kept her gaze focused ahead.

  
Travelling as a tight group, they crossed the road and hurried through the concrete opening into a darkened parking lot. They crossed silently to a white van parked beneath one of the lit fluorescents and Harmony tugged the back door open with ease. The other flight attendant threw her bag onto one of the seats in the back and ushered Myra in roughly. Harmony climbed in after her as Travis clamoured into the passenger seat. It was quiet for a moment before the engine started and the flight attendant hit the gas pedal a little too hard, sending everyone lurching forward.

 

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve been behind the wheel of a car,” he admitted easing into drive with more caution.

  
Myra glanced through the passenger window as the van sped out of the garage and caught a glimpse of the woman who had been pushing a cart across the floor as they had left the terminal. However every time that Myra glanced at the sliding doors the woman standing there didn't appear to be human, but instead bore wings and sported a set of wicked talons. She seemed to want to follow the van that was winding its way through the narrow lanes that circled the airport. Harmony, or at least the woman who looked like Harmony, made an obscure gesture that Myra had seen a few times before. She made a claw like figure with her hand and pushed it away from her heart and it seemed to have some effect, with the woman eyeing them less ardently.

* * *

  
The van sped down the highway through Long Island. Myra was sure that the trees and greenery would have been nice if it were not the middle of the night. But instead the view was a bluish-green blur beyond the guardrail. A silence had descended inside the vehicle, although it wasn’t entirely an uncomfortable one. They all watched out the windows at whatever lights they could see passing in the night.

  
It wasn’t long before the driver took a sharp left turn, exiting the highway and taking a gravel road that was barely viable between the trees. To Myra it seemed that the road went on for many miles, but in truth it was only about two before they came to the base of a large hill crested with a single pine tree. “Welcome to Camp Half Blood, Myra,” Travis announced with a sort of grand sweeping gesture up the hill. Myra was glad to be somewhere where she could take a shower and change clothes. It had been a very long trip and she wanted some time to process everything she had experienced.

  
Following a narrow roadway around the pined hill, the van entered into a large valley that Myra recognized from her dream. The moon was barely a sliver hanging low in the sky, and thus providing little light to the surroundings. But in the distance she thought she could see the tides sweeping across a beach before quickly retreating. To either sides of the valley the tops of trees that gave into dense forest were barely tinted silver by the moon. Otherwise the camp was dark, save for a single porch light on what appeared to be a several story farmhouse.

  
The driver parked the van next to the house and opened the sliding door to help Harmony get down. Myra pushed her duffle bag out in front of her before climbing out herself. Travis was already making his way towards the lit porch. Myra and the other followed Travis towards the house, where Myra noticed there was a man sitting on a horse on the front porch. Well she at least thought that he was sitting on a horse, although she couldn’t quite see where the horse’s head was or where his legs were. “It must be a trick of the light,” she told herself in her head as she followed closely behind Harmony.

  
“Welcome, Lady Harmonia,” the man on the horse said with a torso bowing low. Myra realised with a start that the man was not sitting on a horse, but had the body of a horse. She felt the blood draining from her face and she felt a little dizzy as she reached out for Harmony’s arm.

  
“Thank you, Chiron. It is a pleasure to see you again,” Harmony replied graciously taking Myra’s hand and tucking it under her arm as she glided up the porch, past the horseman, and into the brightly lit room within the house. She sat Myra down on the couch as they heard the horseman great the others outside.

  
Travis walked in from outside giving Myra another shock. He was walking without the support of his crutches. However that realization was soon eclipsed by the goat legs that he was now walking on. It was nearly too much and Myra just collapsed back into the couch with a sigh.

  
“Welcome to Camp Half Blood, Myra Fisher,” the man with the body of a horse announced entering the room. “I am Chiron, the camp’s Assistant Director. I know that this is a lot to take in. Hopefully things will begin to make a lot more sense soon. However it is late and I am sure that you are exhausted from such a long journey. There are many things that need to be discussed but it can wait until tomorrow. Argus will show you to your room.”

* * *

  
Myra watched the sun peak over the horizon awash in a pinkish glow as the ocean gently washed a new day onto the shore. She had tried to open the window to let in some of the bracing morning air, but the frame had been painted shut many years ago. Instead she sat on the metal cot trying to detangle the knots from her wet hair. Some sleep and a shower had made her feel a little more normal, but she knew that she was in for a difficult day. Last night had already been enough of a shock to her system and there was a foreboding sense that there were many more surprises to come.

  
As Myra watched Chiron walking across the valley with another man she did not recognize, there was a very soft knock on her door. Before she could say anything Travis opened the door carrying a tray of food. Looking at the plate of fruit, cheese, and unleavened bread Myra realised just how hungry she was. She was so focused on the food that she nearly forgot that her friend had goat legs.

  
“Good morning, Myra. How are you doing this morning?” Travis asked as he placed the tray on a small side table next to the bed.  
“I’m doing alright, I guess,” she shrugged as she reached for a cluster of grapes.

  
“Yeah I know this is a difficult adjustment but if anyone can deal with it, it would be you,” Travis reassured her as he sat next to her on the cot. He noticed that Myra’s gaze kept returning to his legs and smiled to himself. “You wouldn’t be rude if you asked.”

  
“What are you?” Myra blurted out before she could even consider rewording the question. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth in embarrassment. However Travis just laughed.

  
“I’m a satyr,” he casually replied.

  
“Like the Jewish Passover feast?”

  
“No like a half human-half goat. Satyr with a t and a y, not Seder,” Travis laughed again. “That is actually a first for me and I have been doing this for a while.”

  
“Doing what? I would have assumed that you were a professional beach bum.”

  
“This sounds very confusing out of context, but I am a protector of sorts. I try to find demigods across the country and bring them here where they can be safe. Like Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

  
“But half goat instead of a British librarian?”

  
“Exactly.”

  
“Okay I guess that makes some kind of sense,” Myra said looking out across the valley that held the camp. All sorts of strange looking creatures walked amongst the buildings and even the buildings were cast in odd shapes. Myra was particularly distressed to see that there was a large pillar across the camp that seemed to be spitting out lava. “Although this is a very strange place, Travis.”

  
“Yeah I know,” Travis conceded with a small sigh. He had seen many demigods come into the camp and struggle to come to terms with the new world they had been thrust into. But each one of them had gotten through it just fine, and he was certain that Myra would fare very well.

  
“Who is the person with Chiron?” Myra asked redirecting her gaze back towards the window. Her eyes followed the two men as they strolled towards a pavilion that was attended to by willowy women carrying platters to and fro.

  
“That is Dionysus,” Travis announced with slight adoration and Myra’s head turned swiftly towards him and stared wide-eyed. “Yes the god of wine and mirth. That Dionysus. He is the Camp Director and you will be meeting him later today.”

  
“Oh wow,” was all she could really manage. First she had managed to befriend a goddess posing as a high school student and now she was going to meet another divine figure. It was nothing if not a little intermediating.

  
“Not many demigods have gotten to meet as many gods and goddesses as you have, Myra,” Travis began. “Of course there is Lady Harmonia and Dionysus, but you were also acquainted with Morpheus, the god of dreams, yesterday.”

  
This was all too much for Myra who just fell backwards onto the cot. It was not large and thus her head fell off the edge leaning at an uncomfortable angle. From here she saw Harmony standing in the door laughing softly at the odd angles that her friend’s face had contorted into in this position.

  
“I would like to speak with you for a moment before we meet with Chiron and Dionysus. Come on, there is some coffee brewing downstairs,” Harmony beckoned softly. Myra stood up and straightened her sweater before following Harmony out the door and down the stairs. Harmony sat down delicately on the couch as the many-eyed man from the night before handed her a cup of coffee. Myra took a seat next to her, with much less grace than her friend had managed, and also took a steaming mug.

  
“There is going to be a lot of new information coming at you today. So before that happens I want to know that no matter what, I will always think of you as a sister of sorts. It doesn’t mater to me that you are a moral and I am not, you will always have a special place in my heart,” Harmony said placing her hand on Myra’s shoulder with a soft smile. Myra smiled warmly back towards her. However before she could reply, Chiron and Dionysus entered into the room.

  
“Good Moring, Myra. I hope you slept well,” Chiron addressed her as he too took a large mug of coffee from the many-eyed man. “I am sorry if the room was musty. Not many people actually occupy that space anymore.”

  
“Thank the gods,” the squat, purple faced man spat. “Now I can finally get some peace and quiet.”

  
“It is good to see that you haven’t changed one bit during your time on earth, Diony,” Harmony laughed which he returned with a scowl.

  
“Well we might as well get on with it then,” he said shifting his eyes towards Myra. She saw that they were also impossible bloodshot and the pallor of his skin were a dead giveaway to the state of a perpetual hangover.

  
“Now, Myra, as I am sure you are now aware you are a demigod. Born to a god and a human. Unfortunately this union often leads to many dangers as monsters that most humans have through to be only figments of the Ancient’s imaginations often target your kind. However many children of godly parents have found their way here where they can live in relative safety until they are able to go out into the world. In most cases these children will be identified and taken to the Camp around the time they reach eleven. However things are obviously different in your case, as I have been told that you are eighteen,” Chiron explained.

  
“You see, there has been quite a disturbance in our world,” Harmony continued. “For many years we have expected that Kronos would try to return to the world and start another war. Now we fear that the titan has gained a foothold with a young man who had become resentful towards the gods. From the info that we have managed to gather it would seem that he is amassing an army of monsters on board of a cruise ship.

  
“Now I am sure you are wondering where you come in. Well we need someone to be our eyes and ears on board the ship. What knowledge we can gather has a tendency to be shaky and our sources have a tendency to not be reliable.”

  
“So you want me to be a spy?” Myra asked setting down the cup of coffee that she was holding and resting her elbows on her knees. She was carefully contemplating the task that had been put forward. It would be a lie to say that she didn't have some kind of knowledge about this kind of work, after all her father had worked in counterintelligence for the Navy for many years. It was what brought them to Guantanamo in the first place. Despite whatever she knew about the work, she still felt shaken. It was not an easy thing to ask.

  
“And to just pile more on, I choose you for this task when you were very young. While assessing the situation, I thought it would be best to try to keep you away from this world as long as possible. We didn’t know exactly what would happen when Kronos tried to rise again and I wanted to make sure that you could not be corrupted by his potential agent,” Harmony explained cautiously. “Now things are a little clearer and I don’t think I could have chosen a better person for the job.”


End file.
